Chapter Sixty-Two: First Light

The Divine Invocation Technique was even more incomplete than the Spirit Calling Strengthening Method. To most, it hardly counted as a proper discipline, but Chen Yu did not mind—he had created it himself, and thus it suited him perfectly.

He circulated his energy, silently reciting the incantation.

Most of the incantation had been pieced together from various other divine invocation methods. To ensure there were no errors or misinterpretations, Chen Yu had been particularly careful in stitching the fragments together.

Now, as he practiced, the incantation calmed his mind, achieving his original purpose.

But that was all. If he hoped for the legendary spectacle—clouds of radiant light, gods and spirits gazing disdainfully, the sound of the Dao resonating in the air—such things were utterly beyond reach.

Sitting upright, Chen Yu exercised his method, once more attempting to guide and harness his spiritual power from the hazy, chaotic realm within.

Perhaps from so many times immersing himself in this tranquil void, his thoughts were empty, rising and falling, then settling again. Amid the interplay of movement and stillness, his previously tangled, wild thoughts—like overgrown weeds—finally quieted, fading away.

Purity.

This single word, though not absolute stillness, was precious.

If Chen Yu were clear-headed at this moment, he would surely be astonished at his own state.

This was enlightenment, the first light, the very experience coveted by tens of thousands of Daoists at the foot of the mountain.

In his previous life, Daoist schools held many views about levels of attainment, differing and inconclusive. Among the more famous were the Five Times and Seven Stages.

It was said that achieving the first stage meant one could attain the Dao and hope for immortality. If one reached the seventh, they could befriend the Celestial Lords, gather with sages, and expound the ultimate truth.

In this world, the Daoist sects speak of the Five Elements and Three Constants.

The Five Elements are the stages of enlightenment sought by Daoists: First Light, Great Stillness, Sitting Forgetfulness, Startled Cicada, and Turtle Breath.

The Three Constants are: Permanent, Impermanent, and Everlasting.

Which is more correct is unclear, but if pressed, Chen Yu’s current state matched the description of the Five Times, and could also be fitted into First Light.

In any case, at this moment—

He had fallen into the mysterious, ultimate void, gaining a slight insight.

Unconsciously, his mind was particularly active, something he had only glimpsed after much accumulation and tempering.

Until, at a certain moment, it seemed he finally crossed some invisible barrier. Chaos surged, turbid waves swept, as if mountains collapsed and the earth caved in, a thunderous roar echoed in his mind, violently blasting Chen Yu out.

He abruptly opened his eyes, his expression vacant for a long while before easing—What just happened?

Rubbing his brow, he felt the swelling sensation there grow clearer, as if at any moment it would burst open and sprout an eye.

“Am I really going to grow a Heavenly Eye?”

His mind was shaken and restless; Chen Yu found it difficult to immerse himself again.

Yet a gleam flickered in his eyes, for during that hazy journey, he seemed to glimpse something different.

Perhaps a sphere of light—it seemed… to have cracked?

“It seems my inner spirit is finally gestating, stirring up waves.”

He closed his eyes to adjust his mind, focusing on the ocean of consciousness deep within. As expected, he found himself amid endless waves, unable to stand firm, and withdrew in haste.

Chen Yu pondered, attempting to guide it with the Divine Invocation Technique.

Buzz—!

Hiss!

Pain, pain, pain, pain!

Suddenly clutching his head, he squatted down, nearly tumbling onto the stone below. He sprang up several steps, gulping down several mouthfuls of cool spiritual liquid to ease the explosive pain in his head.

After a long while, the pain finally subsided. He gasped heavily, drenched in sweat, yet his eyes overflowed with irrepressible delight.

He plucked a blade of grass and tossed it into the air.

Closed his eyes.

Recited the incantation.

Silently, the grass drifted in the wind, and as it neared his clothes, he dodged it easily.

Opening his eyes, Chen Yu pressed his throbbing temple. The pain lingered, but his joy was about to spill over.

“I can finally control it!”

Just a little, but without a doubt, this was the right path.

“Next, I need to manipulate more, and with greater precision.”

He calmed his heart. For now, the spiritual power he could control was too weak. Once released, it seemed stripped of a layer, leaving barely a tenth, and he could only sense the blade of grass.

More, and stronger—until he could influence external objects while projecting his spirit. This was Chen Yu’s new goal.

“It’s truly different now.”

The wonders of spiritual power were far from limited to this, but everything was just beginning. Chen Yu would have to explore the rest himself; no one else could help him on this path.

...

The initial control over his spiritual power left Chen Yu feeling as though he had discovered something novel. He spent the entire afternoon experimenting with its use, making great progress for a beginner.

Yet each time he extended his weak spirit outward, it was met with intense stimulation, as if stripped away layer by layer in a gale, leaving only a wisp that could reach barely a foot.

Fortunately, having reached First Light, the first time gave way to the second and third, until he could use it freely. With repeated practice, as he sank once more into the utmost tranquility, his spiritual power was not as wildly active as the first time, but it was much easier to control than usual.

The direction of progress was clear; now came the slow grind. Perhaps with the next batch of spiritual plants, he could grow some that would aid in this aspect.

He looked forward to it with no small anticipation.

With the approaching Dharma Assembly, Chen Yu had to divide some attention to preparations, with considerations and plans to make.

He had no intention of merely being a spectator—he brought with him significant ambitions. First, to exchange insights and experiences with the local Daoists, and to glean some of their novel ideas. Secondly, he meant to search for books on the internal organs—be they Daoist scriptures or medical texts, all would be useful.

“I must bring all my money.”

Though all he had would likely not suffice—a drop in the bucket.

Some ancient medical classics couldn’t be bought with his meager funds.

“I must bring herbs as well.”

They were ordinary medicinal plants, many picked from the mountain stream and of excellent quality. As he had planned, selling them would ensure he had enough for expenses.

“I need to carry valuable items too.”

Not to show off—that would be dull. As mentioned, most Daoists coming to the assembly must have considered the current turbulent times. In such conditions, cooperation was the trend, and the old habit of hoarding secrets was no longer appropriate.

Still, some classics were indeed jealously guarded. Even if Chen Yu didn’t try to claim them, merely glimpsing them was exceedingly difficult.

The ingenuity of the sages… ahem, their Daoist treatises were plentiful, especially those recorded in history and sung through centuries in the sects.

Chen Yu wanted to learn from them, to see how his predecessors and sages battled through the quest for the Dao.

Just as he had sometimes gained insights from the Daoist scriptures at the Cloud Crane Temple, he believed these books and writings also contained their thoughts, and might be of great help.